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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29868561">A Little Bit Scandalous</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetzproblem/pseuds/poetzproblem'>poetzproblem</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Don't Blink [42]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Glee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bachelorette Party, But Not Pleasing, F/F, Humor, Lapdance, Premarital Abstinence, Romance, Strippers &amp; Strip Clubs, Stripping, Teasing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:40:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,107</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29868561</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetzproblem/pseuds/poetzproblem</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel sighs dreamily, taking a moment to bask in the knowledge that she'll become Quinn's wife in just one week—when the only stripping that will concern either one of them will be stripping one another out of their clothes on their wedding night.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Don't Blink [42]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/20608</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>87</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Little Less Conversation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><strong>Author's Note:</strong> Number 42 of the <i>Don't Blink</i> series set before <i>Diamonds Along the Way</i>. Posted in two parts.</p><p>Unbetaed so all mistakes are my own.</p><p><strong>Disclaimer:</strong> I do not own <i>Glee</i> or the characters. I just like to play with them…strictly non-profit.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Got everyone watching us</em><br/>
<em>So baby, let's keep it secret</em><br/>
<em>A little bit scandalous</em><br/>
<em>But baby, don't let them see it.</em><br/>
<em>~Into You, Ariana Grande</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>"She's taking you where?!"</p><p>The shrill (but still perfectly pitched) note in Rachel's voice is undeniable despite her best efforts to keep it muted, and it's obvious that Quinn can clearly hear it by the slightly squinted eyes and the firmly stated, "Don't freak out, Rachel," that follows.</p><p>"I'm not freaking out. This is not freaking out," Rachel denies hotly, cutting an agitated hand through the air between them while Quinn remains frustratingly calm in her mundane task of chopping up carrots for the vegetarian stir fry that she's making for dinner. "Why would I freak out over Santana Lopez dragging my fiancée to a strip club two days before our wedding?"</p><p>It's marginally possible that she might, in fact, be freaking out.</p><p>"It's really more of a burlesque cabaret."</p><p>Rachel's eyes narrow, and she points a cautionary finger at a <em>still</em> frustratingly calm Quinn. "Fancy words do not cover up the very naked women who will be gyrating on your lap with their breasts in your face."</p><p>Quinn finally pauses in her task, appearing to consider this for a moment. "I think they mostly stay up on the stage." Her head tilts thoughtfully. "Unless you pay for a private dance."</p><p>Rachel huffs out an irate breath at the very thought of Quinn in some private room with a woman who is <em>not</em> Rachel in her lap. "That's it. I'm calling Santana," she vows, instantly spinning on her heel with every intention of finding her phone and giving Santana Lopez a piece of her mind. How dare she impose her highly suspect entertainment preferences on a happily engaged woman? Especially one who is happily engaged to Rachel!</p><p>She's so intent on her mission that she almost misses Quinn's amused snicker, until—</p><p>"Be my guest. I told her I'd rather do one of those bridal party tours at the Met anyway."</p><p>That gives pause to Rachel's irritated march from the kitchen and has her turning back around with decidedly less haste, finally taking note of that particular smirk on Quinn's face; the one that typically appears whenever she's been purposely riling up Rachel for her own amusement. "You suggested <em>that</em> to Santana?" she questions dubiously.</p><p>"It wasn't well received," Quinn admits with obvious amusement, carefully placing her chopping knife down on the counter.</p><p>A tiny smile tugs at the corner of Rachel's lips at the thought of Santana being sullenly dragged around a museum by Quinn in lieu of an actual party. "I can imagine."</p><p>"You know I don't care about strippers, Rach," Quinn promises as she moves forward, reaching out to slide her fingers down Rachel's arm until she catches her hand and promptly uses it to tug her closer with very little resistance. "Well, unless you're the one doing the stripping," she husks, letting her eyes roam over Rachel in obvious appreciation. The heat in her gaze and the sultry undertones in her voice help Quinn plant a very enticing image in Rachel's mind with exactly no intention of acting on it, as evidenced by her letting go of Rachel's hand with a resigned sigh. "But Santana wants to throw me an authentic bachelorette party, whatever the hell that means," she mutters with a roll of her eyes, "and you know what she's like when she sets her mind on something."</p><p>Rachel frowns, knowing exactly what Santana is like—and that Quinn has obviously made up her mind to go along with whatever Santana is planning. "She only wants to get her own jollies by ogling naked ladies."</p><p>"Pretty much," Quinn laughingly agrees.</p><p>"And you'll be right there next to her," Rachel notes sullenly.</p><p>"There will be no jollies had by me, sweetie," Quinn vows seriously, lifting a hand to cross her heart before another playful grin curves her lips. "You know I'm abstaining until our wedding night."</p><p>It's Rachel's turn to sigh in resignation. "Yes. I am intimately aware of that sad fact."</p><p>Quinn had made the suggestion exactly eight days ago—right after a giving Rachel a rather fantastic orgasm that she now strongly suspects was meant to make her fuzzy-minded and, therefore, even more pliant to her fiancée's questionable whims—and Rachel had stupidly agreed, meaning that exactly seven days have now passed in which Rachel has been deprived of any type of physical intimacy with Quinn beyond innocent hugs and chaste kisses.</p><p>"Soon," Quinn promises with a knowing smile, giving Rachel's shoulder a reassuring rub. It's nowhere near the location that Rachel would prefer Quinn to be rubbing.</p><p>"Not soon enough," she grumbles petulantly.</p><p>Quinn's smile turns more than a little wicked. "Oh, but I promise I'll make it so very worth the wait." She dips her head down to brush the softest, briefest kiss across Rachel's lips before leaning back with a sexy smirk. "I may even strip for you."</p><p>Rachel nearly groans in frustration. "That statement should in no way be qualified with the word <em>may</em>, Quinn," she chastises with narrowed eyes. "You <em>will </em>be stripping for me, one way or another."</p><p>At this point, Rachel is not above ripping Quinn's clothes off her body with her own two hands if it comes to that—with Quinn's consent of course. (There had better be consent!)</p><p>Quinn hums thoughtfully. "So I should probably go to the club with Santana and take some notes on proper technique. You know, so I can get it just right for you." And she has the audacity to punctuate that assessment with a sexy little shimmy in which she traces her hands along the very curves that Rachel is currently forbidden to explore in any (naked) detail.</p><p>Huffing audibly, Rachel crosses her arms—as much to keep from touching Quinn as to show her annoyance. "Your unsubtle attempt to gain my approval isn't nearly as cute as you think it is."</p><p>It kind of is—everything about Quinn is beyond cute—but Rachel refuses to give Quinn the satisfaction of admitting that in this particular instance.</p><p>Chuckling, Quinn moves her arms from her own body to Rachel's hips in a loose (and frustratingly chaste) embrace. "Would it be cuter if I promise to take pictures of Mercedes's reaction to the strippers?"</p><p>"No, it would not." Nothing would make— "Wait," Rachel mutters with a frown. "Mercedes is supposed to be coming to <em>my</em> bridal shower. Kurt said he had the guest list finalized." He hasn't revealed any other details about what he has planned, but Rachel is certain that he'd mentioned both Mercedes and Tina sending their virtual RSVPs.</p><p>Quinn doesn't look overly concerned by this potential snafu. In fact, she merely shrugs it off. "Huh. Santana said she'd be coming with us."</p><p>"Well, that's not fair! Why do you get both Mercedes <em>and</em> the strippers?"</p><p>Hazel eyes narrow suspiciously. "You say that like you actually want to see strippers."</p><p>"Of course I don't," Rachel hastily denies. After all, she's been to her fair share of strip clubs. Okay, her fair share was exactly one, and she'd been barely seventeen at the time and engaged to Finn Hudson, and they'd been there to rescue Sam Evans from his life of sexual objectivity, not to engage in voyeuristic pleasures. Also, the only bare breasts in sight had been of the masculine variety, and Rachel has since discovered that she's more inclined to appreciate the aesthetics of those <em>other</em>, much curvier varieties—not that she wants to appreciate any variety that doesn't belong to Quinn! "But I don't want your party to be cooler than mine either."</p><p>"Well," Quinn drawls, not even making an attempt to hide her amused smirk.</p><p>"Don't even say it, Quinn Fabray," Rachel warns, giving her shoulders a weak shove. It's barely enough to dislodge the loose hold that Quinn has on her hips for a second or two, but it makes Rachel feel better. "I'm much cooler than I used to be."</p><p>Laughing happily, Quinn firmly reels her back in. "Of course you are, sweetheart."</p><p>"You're placating me," Rachel accuses with a pout.</p><p>"Maybe a little," Quinn concedes, her smirk taking on a very familiar quality and her voice dipping into the lower register that never fails to make Rachel shiver. "But I can assure that you are most definitely much <em>hotter </em>now than you used to be."</p><p>Quinn's body is so very close, and Rachel's is so very warm, and it's so very easy for her to loop her arms around Quinn's neck and bury the fingers of her left hand into the silky blonde hair at her nape. "Hot enough to warrant an exception to your abstinence policy?" she poses hopefully.</p><p>"Mmm…tempting," Quinn purrs, just barely brushing her lips over Rachel's before quickly pulling back with a wicked grin, "but you'll have to wait."</p><p>"I don't like waiting," Rachel grumbles, sagging dramatically in Quinn's arms.</p><p>Quinn has the nerve to chuckle. "Really? I'd never noticed that about you."</p><p>Rachel lets her hands fall to Quinn's biceps, leaning away to stare at her with mild accusation. "You're enjoying this far too much."</p><p>Her lips curl tellingly. "It's all about the teasing." Quinn moves her hands from Rachel's hips to her backside in a way that is not at all chaste (except that it also very definitely <em>is</em> <em>not</em> leading to anything but frustration for Rachel) until Rachel reluctantly catches those hands and removes them from her body lest she be left even more wound up than she is already.</p><p>"Sometimes I think you suggested this moratorium on sex just to have a reason to revisit that old motto of yours."</p><p>"You love that motto," Quinn challenges with an unrepentant grin.</p><p>"When the pleasing part is imminent, yes," Rachel admits, crossing her arms. She has, in fact, enjoyed her fiancée's unparalleled skills in that regard on numerous past occasions, "but our wedding is still an entire week away."</p><p>Quinn rolls her eyes. "I think you'll survive."</p><p>"Questionable." Rachel is not in the mood to concede this particular point. Anything could happen in the eight days that remain until their wedding. Eight days ago she'd still been having sex with Quinn and now she is very much not!</p><p>Quinn's amusement is clear even without her snigger. "This from the woman who once planned to wait until she was twenty-five to even <em>have</em> sex."</p><p>Rachel feels her face heat at the reminder of her youthful boastings. "I obviously didn't know what I was missing." She lets her arms fall out of their sulking position, unable to resist the urge to touch Quinn when she's standing so very close. "In fact," she drawls, ghosting her fingers along the length of Quinn's bare forearms in an attempt to do a little teasing of her own, "I didn't know until you enlightened me with your sensual perfection. You've spoiled me now. There's no going back."</p><p>A familiar expression appears on Quinn's face then; one that Rachel has seen countless times by now. It's not the sultry smirk and near predatory glint in her eyes that follows only mere seconds later, but a transient flash of immense satisfaction that comes and goes so quickly in these moments that it had taken Rachel well over a year to even notice its presence, let alone recognize its meaning. It's the glimmer of emotion that had eventually displaced Quinn's disbelief that she was hearing Rachel say the things that she had only dared to dream about for so many years. The one that had come after Quinn had let herself<em> believe</em>. The one purely rooted in Quinn's gleeful pride that it's <em>her</em> who has claimed Rachel's heart and body so completely and lifted her to heights (both emotionally and physically) that no one else has or could ever hope to match.</p><p>Rachel is intimately acquainted with the rush that comes from a stroked ego, so she can't fault Quinn for enjoying it as well. The look never stays on her lovely features for very long anyway, always so quickly replaced by genuine joy or lust or, in this case, that damnable sexy grin that promises so very much but (currently) delivers so very little.</p><p>"I'll happily spoil you even more," Quinn vows in a husky timbre, leaning tantalizingly close to Rachel's upturned face, "<em>after</em> we're married."</p><p>The promise is punctuated not with the kiss that Rachel is expecting but with a teasing smile and the unacceptable loss of Rachel's preferred proximity to Quinn's tempting lips.</p><p>She frowns up at her far-too-amused fiancée. "I will be holding you to that promise."</p><p>Quinn hums agreeably and pulls Rachel's arms around her waist. "Holding me sounds nice." Her own hands slip around to settle (very) low on Rachel's back.</p><p>Rachel really has no choice but to lean into the enticing warmth of Quinn's body. "You're teasing again."</p><p>The answering chuckle reverberates through both of their chests, pressed together as they are. "Very probably," Quinn unabashedly confirms.</p><p>Rachel sighs in defeated acceptance. "You're very lucky that I love you."</p><p>"I know," Quinn responds without a trace of the teasing she'd just been reveling in, punctuating her sudden seriousness with a very welcome kiss that Rachel can and does appreciate purely as the expression of love and devotion that it is.</p><p>It does not, of course, lead to any broken vows of abstinence.</p><p>It does, however, slightly delay their dinner, which makes Rachel marginally late for her evening show.</p><p>In retrospect, Rachel probably should have arranged for more time off from her performance schedule to accommodate the wedding and various other pre-wedding events. Really, they probably should have waited to get married until after her run on <em>Funny Girl</em> comes to it's inevitable end, but Rachel is hoping to be able to extend her contract since the buzz around the revival and her performance, in particular, hasn't really faded since the show had opened. She's nominated for a very well-deserved Tony after all! It's hard to know for certain when she'll be entirely free of her commitment, and Quinn has this thing about being a June bride, and neither one of them wants to wait another year (or two) to finally be able to call each other wife. So they'd planned their wedding for mid-June all the way back in October, on a Wednesday, because that's the day that <em>Funny Girl </em>is dark, and it wouldn't be right to get married without Rachel's costars present—the ones she actually likes anyway.</p><p>(The mid-week wedding is not entirely desirable for their out-of-town guests but it is much better for their wedding budget.)</p><p>She and Quinn have mostly been able to utilize the mornings and early afternoons to meet with their wedding planner, Candace, in order to get all of the details of their big day squared away, but Rachel really hadn't been considering bachelorette parties and bridal showers into the equation when she'd haggled with her producers over the number of shows she'll need to miss. As it stands, she's convinced them to give her off the week of the wedding, which includes the weekend after. An odd scheduling snafu this year means that the Tony Awards are falling on the Sunday after the wedding instead of two Sundays before, which means that Rachel is technically missing less shows than she would have otherwise since all of Broadway goes dark for the award ceremony, but her producers don't really appreciate those technicalities. They only care that she doesn't miss a single show in the run up to the ones that they have reluctantly agreed to allow her to miss, so that means that she will be staying fairly busy in the days prior to her bridal shower and Quinn's bachelorette party, which are both happening on the Monday evening before their wedding.</p><p>So Rachel has six days to stew over the fact that—</p><p>"Santana is taking Quinn to see strippers for her bachelorette party! Can you believe that?" she demands of Kurt not even a minute after she slides into the seat across from him at his favorite diner on 9th Avenue. They're meeting for lunch, exactly one week before the wedding, to discuss the details of Rachel's bridal shower while Quinn does the same with Santana at some horrible, meat-loving Mexican place near the hospital.</p><p>As it happens, Rachel hadn't needed to stew over the strippers for six days. She'd boiled over in less than one.</p><p>"Is that even a real question?" Kurt wonders aloud, glancing up from his menu. "This is Santana Lopez we're talking about. I wouldn't believe it if you'd told me she was planning anything else."</p><p>"How do we stop them?"</p><p>Kurt's eyebrows inch up. "We?"</p><p>Rachel chooses to ignore the unspoken censure that she can hear buried in his tone. "Yes, Kurt. <em>We</em>." She leans forward, bracing her forearms on the table in front of her and doggedly holding his already judgy gaze. "You are my best friend and my best man and thereby obligated to help me stop my fiancée from getting a lap dance from some bare breasted floozy in transparent thongs and a feather boa two days before our wedding!"</p><p>A contemplative expression appears on his face. "What material would one even use to create transparent thongs?" And it seems to Rachel that he might be a little too invested in whatever answer he might conjure up and not nearly invested enough in the dire situation at hand.</p><p>Rachel snaps her fingers twice in front of his face in order to gain back his full attention, unamused by his lack of urgency in the matter. "Focus, Kurt."</p><p>Sighing, Kurt sets his menu aside. "Rachel, sweetie, you need to calm down and let whatever crazy scheme is brewing in that primadonna brain of yours evaporate into the ether." He flutters his fingers in the air for effect before reaching over to give the back of Rachel's hand a comforting pat. "It's just a bachelorette party."</p><p>"With strippers," Rachel reiterates, not entirely comprehending how Kurt is failing to grasp the importance of that one, very significant detail.</p><p>Kurt's eyes narrow in suspicion, and he leans back against the booth, crossing his arms. His judgy expression gets dialed all the way up to ten. "What exactly is going on here, Rachel? Do you not trust your fiancée?"</p><p>The mere suggestion that she doesn't trust Quinn after four years together is simply absurd. Her mouth opens immediately to deny it. "I..."</p><p>Strange.</p><p>Her mouth, usually so cooperative with her every mental command, simply falls silent as it attempts to form what most certainly would have been the word 'do' and absolutely <em>not </em>the word 'don't.'</p><p>"Rachel Berry!" Kurt reprimands sharply. He does it so well that she almost feels like one of her dads is scolding her.</p><p>She huffs loudly and slumps down in her seat, feeling the tips of her ears catch fire. "I trust her to...you know," she waves her hands around in a vague gesture, "not <em>touch</em> anything." She knows that Quinn would never cheat on her, and especially not with some random woman in a strip club. "But I'm not convinced there won't be looking, and," she hesitates, voice wavering under old insecurities, "liking."</p><p>Kurt's eyebrows quirk up again. "Because you would?" he asks knowingly.</p><p>"I most certainly would not," Rachel denies hotly, jerking upright in her chair. Kurt's expression doesn't change, and Rachel begins to fidget under his intense stare. "Much," she mutters, because it would be nearly impossible for one to be surrounded by half-naked women and not look at <em>anything</em>. "Mostly." Kurt is still giving her<em> that</em> look; the one that says he knows her far too well after all these years. "Okay, fine," she practically shouts, throwing up her hands in defeat. "I would look too."</p><p>She and Quinn have (mostly) gotten past the insecurities from those early days of their relationship when simply appreciating another woman's aesthetics would (and did) send each other into a jealous spiral of self-doubt and hurt feelings. They've even appreciated some of those aesthetics together in perfectly acceptable (non strip club) ways that she <em>will not</em> be revealing to Kurt. "But it's a moot point because my bridal shower will <em>not</em> involve strippers."</p><p>"You almost sound disappointed by that," Kurt muses, his smug smile firmly in place.</p><p>"I do not! I <em>am</em> not," she vows with near confidence. "I'm certain that I'll love whatever completely respectable and non-objectifying activity you have planned." While Quinn engages in objectifying activities without her.</p><p>"Well, there might be <em>some </em>objectifying," Kurt admits with a pleasant smile, uncrossing his arms as he leans forward in preparation to reveal his big plans. "I'm preparing an in-depth, ten-year fashion retrospective of all the prominent Fabray-Berry styles that have graced your wardrobes on the epic journey from frenemies to lovers."</p><p>"Berry-Fabray," Rachel absently corrects. "And...a fashion retrospective?"</p><p>"Mmhmm," Kurt hums with a nod, picking up his menu once again. "There will be lingerie included of course. I'm not into that kind of thing, but you and Quinn obviously are if your closets have anything to say about it."</p><p>Rachel's brows furrow at that last part. "Have you been snooping through our closets again?"</p><p>Kurt doesn't even bat an eyelash. "It's what I do, Rachel. Santana has her vices and I have mine," he reminds her, unashamed.</p><p>Their friends really do have no boundaries. If it isn't Kurt snooping through their clothes then it's Santana snooping through literally everything else—also mooching their food; and taking Quinn to see strippers!</p><p>"So...a fashion party," Rachel repeats, injecting as much interest as she can muster along with her biggest show smile.</p><p>Kurt regards her with a tilt of his head. "Don't sound so enthused."</p><p>"No, I am," she insists. (She's not.) "It sounds...lovely." But really, couldn't he have come up with something a little more exciting to celebrate her impending marriage? Quinn is getting strippers, for crying out loud!</p><p>With a sigh, he places his menu back on the table once again. "And yet twelve years of friendship tell me that you're silently plotting a way to convince me to chuck all of my intricate plans in order to raid Quinn's bachelorette party with you instead."</p><p>Rachel brightens. "Could we?" she asks eagerly. She only feels a little bit guilty about derailing his plans. Really, how intricate can they be? He hasn't even mentioned a PowerPoint.</p><p>Kurt rolls his eyes, smiling indulgently. "Because I know you so very well, Rachel Barbara Berry, I knew that we would be having exactly this conversation the moment you found out what Santana was planning for Quinn. And yes," he adds hastily when he sees her open her mouth to question him further, "I already knew what Santana was planning because she also knows you well enough to have predicted this very outcome as well. So <em>we,</em>" he gestures back and forth between them,<em> "</em>and all of our honored guests are going to Club Elysium, which features both female and male exotic dancers to cater to all of our combined bachelorette party needs."</p><p>Rachel stares at him in shock for a full fifteen seconds. "Wait. You're having <em>my</em> bridal shower at a <em>strip club</em>?"</p><p>Kurt's proud grin morphs into a frown. "Why do you now sound affronted by the very idea when you literally just asked me if we could crash Quinn's party at the same club?"</p><p>"Because crashing it would give me the moral high ground," she answers without pause. There's no way that she's admitting that she might possibly want to watch strippers with Quinn. Really though, they're engaged. The only time that watching strippers is an acceptable activity for a person who is engaged is when it's done as a couple's activity with one's betrothed. Everyone knows this.</p><p>"I don't really think it works that way."</p><p>She ignores his naysaying. "Does Quinn know about this?" Because if she does, it makes her attempt to rile up Rachel over her bachelorette party even more wicked.</p><p>"Not yet," Kurt reveals, shaking his head. "Santana decided to hedge her bets just in case you surprised us with a rare burst of maturity and decided to let Quinn have her last hurrah without kicking up a fuss."</p><p>She ignores the dig and jabs a finger in his direction. "There will be no <em>hurrahing</em> on my watch."</p><p>"You do realize that means you can't have your own last hurrah either," Kurt points out haughtily.</p><p>"I don't want one, Kurt. I only want Quinn." It's been Rachel's truth for longer than she's even been aware of it. "She's enough for me for always."</p><p>Kurt's expression goes soft, and he presses a hand over his heart. "Aw, that's so romantic."</p><p>Rachel sighs dreamily, taking a moment to bask in the knowledge that she'll become Quinn's wife in just one week—when the only stripping that will concern either one of them will be stripping one another out of their clothes on their wedding night. (It's quite possible that Quinn's insistence on abstinence could be exacerbating Rachel's current obsession with the stripping thing.) She shakes herself out of her reverie because there are still pressing matters to discuss. "So you and Santana have been planning a joint party from the beginning?"</p><p>Amusement creeps back onto Kurt's face. "We have. You and Quinn can look at but not touch the strippers together."</p><p>Rachel nods, pleased by this. Looking but not touching and certainly not liking anything that they see more than they like seeing each other. That's very important.</p><p>And really, separate parties would be highly inefficient when they share so many of the same friends.</p><p>Realization washes over Rachel, and she points an accusatory finger at Kurt. "That's why Mercedes is on both of our guest lists."</p><p>Kurt's smile disappears in the blink of an eye. "That bitch," he grumbles, crossing his arms again. "Santana said she'd let us have Mercedes until everything was finalized."</p><p>"She was on loan!" Rachel shrieks, affronted on Mercedes's behalf as well as her own. She and Kurt obviously should have full custody of Mercedes. They have years of shared high school gleekdom under their belts, during which Santana and Quinn were still being generally bitchy to all of them.</p><p>"It hardly matters now," Kurt appeases, though he still looks a bit miffed that Santana hadn't abided by their agreement.</p><p>"What if I hadn't thrown a fit about the strippers?" Rachel wonders. It's possible that she wouldn't have—or, well, that she <em>would</em> have but still would have let Quinn have her party unimpeded.</p><p>"A wine party at my studio complete with the aforementioned fashion retrospective, an array of questionable bedroom accoutrements gifted to you," he shudders at the very mention, "and karaoke and gossip well into the predawn hours."</p><p>"That could have been fun," Rachel concedes, thinking it sounds better than the glorified fashion show that she'd initially envisioned; like a big sleepover with booze and sex toys—or, rather, <em>props</em>—that Quinn would make a fuss about using but ultimately agree to try at least once. She hopes the bedroom accoutrements are still gifted to them (her) despite the change of setting.</p><p>"It still could be," Kurt offers hopefully. "Just say the word and we can leave Elysium to Santana."</p><p>"No. We're going to the club," Rachel is quick to affirm. She reaches over to pat Kurt's hand. "But I still appreciate your vision."</p><p>There's another resigned sigh from her best friend. "I knew you'd say that."</p><p>And he very likely did, because apparently Rachel is just that predictable in this particular way. If Kurt and Santana both expected her to crash Quinn's stripper-laden bachelorette party with such confidence, then it seems implausible that Quinn won't also be expecting it as well.</p><p>She hates being predictable.</p><p>But she's so not letting Quinn go to that strip club without her.</p><p>"Kurt," she gasps, lurching for his hand again. "I just had the most brilliant idea."</p><p>His eyes widen in panic, and he quickly pulls his hand away. "Oh, no. I don't like that glint in your eyes."</p><p>Her giddiness is irrepressible. "Don't worry. It's nothing illegal," she promises, smiling widely. "We just need to convince Santana to agree to one teeny, tiny request."</p><p>"So, suicidal then," Kurt deduces flatly, decidedly unimpressed by Rachel's excitement.</p><p>"It will be fine," she assures him, waving a dismissive hand. Really, he should have a little more faith in her after all this time. Her ideas are stellar. She's marrying Quinn Fabray, after all.</p><p>"Famous last words," he mutters, not looking at all convinced.</p><p>Rachel ignores his grumbling, happy to have the strip club matter settled in her mind. She leans back in her seat and finally picks up her own menu to peruse the lunch options. She's suddenly famished, and she and Kurt will need plenty of sustenance while they hammer out the details of her utterly inspired bachelorette party plan.</p><p>Quinn will never see it coming.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Little More Touch My Body</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rachel is oddly quiet about the whole bachelorette party thing in the days leading up to it. Quinn isn't entirely sure what to make of that fact. On one hand, it's a relief not to be made to feel guilty about the plans that Santana had made. After all, Quinn really had suggested a tour at the Met. She would have thoroughly enjoyed that, and she suspects at least a few of her guests would have enjoyed it better than watching exotic dancers shed their clothing at Club Elysium, supposedly respectable gentlemen's club that it proclaims to be.</p>
<p>It's not that Quinn is fundamentally opposed to the idea of watching scantily clad dancers shed their clothes as an evening's entertainment. She and Santana had frequented their fair share of strip clubs around the city in her younger, wilder, fresh-out-of-the-closet days—also, her post-break-up-with-Sarah days—but it's not a thing she's done or has had any desire to do since she's been with Rachel.</p>
<p>Rachel, who, predictably, was easily riled up about the strippers even before Quinn had decided to rile her up even more. She can't really help herself. Watching Rachel Berry get all huffy and sanctimonious is weirdly arousing to her for some reason that she can't explain, or maybe she can. Maybe it's some freaky Pavlovian response leftover from her high school repression and all those forbidden fantasies of the many ways she could have shut Rachel up back then.</p>
<p>Quinn currently can't explore any of those many ways to silence Rachel (other than the kissing) because she is very serious about waiting until their wedding night before they make love again, which is why it should be nothing but a relief that she actually doesn't need to get creative with ways to appease Rachel's displeasure about the strippers because Rachel doesn't seem all that displeased anymore.</p>
<p>It's a good thing, Quinn thinks. Rachel isn't being irrationally jealous or possessive. They trust each other, and because they do, the little moments of jealousy that do still happen from time-to-time don't devolve into arguments or accusations. They mostly just go the way of the other day's discussion, with reassurances that they each only want the other and any tiny embers of jealousy being smothered by their own playful flirtation.</p>
<p>In fact, they've come so far in that regard that they've even had discussions about their celebrity crushes, jokingly decided who'd get a 'hall pass,' and ranked their favorite television shows and films by nothing but the attractiveness of their casts. (There may also have been a few films of questionable content played in the privacy of their bedroom that they had both mocked and admired in equal measure.)</p>
<p>Even so, Rachel being resistant to Quinn's presence at a strip club is kind of a given. Quinn had expected days of adorably sulky comments and sneaky attempts to persuade her to skip her own party, but aside from a few of the sulky comments, there's been nothing.</p>
<p>It's a relief—but also not.</p>
<p>"Are you sure you're okay with me going to Club Elysium?' she finally asks. It's not completely out of the blue. It's preceded by one of those sulky comments that isn't entirely sulky—a reminder that Mercedes has chosen to attend Rachel's bridal shower over <em>Santana's questionable entertainment choices</em>. Well, at least Mercedes has chosen to <em>start</em> the evening with Rachel. She might try to make her way over to the club later on if she's not too exhausted after her flight into the city.</p>
<p>Rachel pauses in the midst of buttoning her blouse and turns to look at Quinn. The bottom edges of the deep jade fabric gape open just enough to offer a tantalizing peak at the toned, tanned skin beneath. "<em>Okay</em> isn't exactly the word I would choose," Rachel responds before her fingers resume their task of securing buttons. "<em>Resigned</em> seems more appropriate."</p>
<p>And yeah, that probably does describe Rachel's current state of being a little more accurately. "You know I'm only doing this for Santana."</p>
<p>Rachel laughs as she finishes off her last button and then steps into Quinn's space. "You are such a beautiful liar," she accuses good-naturedly, lifting her hands to cup Quinn's face. "But I love you, and I trust you not to touch anything you shouldn't." It's punctuated with a pat to her cheek that's maybe a little on the firm side before Rachel drops her hands.</p>
<p>Quinn smiles at her fiancée. "I won't touch anything," she promises with ease. "I won't even look."</p>
<p>"Again with the lies," Rachel scolds, though she's obviously more amused than upset.</p>
<p>Well, the <em>no looking</em> part might be a tiny fib but the <em>no touching</em> is the absolute truth. Quinn has waited too long to make Rachel Berry her wife and she's not about to do anything to screw it up now. If Rachel had been truly opposed to this party, then Quinn would have insisted that Santana fuck off with the strippers and take her to the Met instead, but since Rachel hasn't thrown an outright tantrum about this—well, Quinn thinks the whole, so-called <em>authentic</em> bachelorette party that Santana has planned could be kind of fun.</p>
<p>"It'll be like admiring artwork," Quinn reasons. "That happens to be moving," she adds cheekily when Rachel shoots her a dubious look.</p>
<p>"Dancing seductively," Rachel corrects with narrowed eyes.</p>
<p>"Rachel Berry," Quinn admonishes with a grin, slipping her arms around her fiancée's waist. "Broadway superstar." That coaxes out a delighted smile and a giggle as Rachel melts into her arms. "I'm certain you're aware that dance is just another artistic medium. Why, the strip club is practically a museum."</p>
<p>A cute, little huff of protest puffs against Quinn's chin. "Just make sure you keep all your kinks to yourself until you get home."</p>
<p>Quinn chuckles. "Always." She leans in to brush her lips over Rachel's in the barest of kisses. "Except," she drawls, leaning back with a smirk, "I'll also be keeping them to myself until our wedding night."</p>
<p>Rachel groans, practically sagging against her. "Two more days."</p>
<p>"Mmmhmm. Two days and I'm all yours," Quinn teases—and yes, she is <em>very</em> aware of the teasing. Rachel isn't wrong about just how much she enjoys it. Her hands drift down to pull Rachel's body flush against her, and she purposely lets her voice fall into its deeper register, knowing exactly what it does to Rachel. "Just imagine how <em>amazing </em>our honeymoon will be."</p>
<p>"I <em>have</em> been, Quinn," Rachel whines. "That's the problem. My very vivid imagination only makes me want you more."</p>
<p>"Not really seeing the problem with that."</p>
<p>"Quinn!"</p>
<p>Laughing, Quinn briefly pats Rachel's delectable ass before slipping out of their embrace. She's nothing but amused by Rachel's repeated antics. Okay, so she's a little bit horny too. Contrary to what Rachel might believe, Quinn is not unaffected by the teasing, but the anticipation is intoxicating, and Quinn is drunk on the excitement of it. (Maybe a little drunk on the power of it too.) She knows the eventual payoff will be so very worth it. "Finish getting dressed. You don't want to be late for your own bridal shower."</p>
<p>A little groan slips past Rachel's lips, and she frowns at Quinn, though the twinkle in her eyes gives away her own amusement. "You really are such a tease."</p>
<p>Quinn only winks before she saunters out of their bedroom with an exaggerated sway of her hips, happily proving Rachel's point.</p>
<p>She sends Rachel off with a farewell kiss not thirty minutes later, left to get ready for her own party before Santana picks her up. Club Elysium doesn't even open until seven o'clock, so Rachel's shower might be close to over before Quinn's party really gets started in earnest.</p>
<p>She would have been fine with a joint party, but with Santana and Kurt arguing over who got to plan it, it had just seemed simpler to let them each have their way. Quinn isn't chomping at the bit for a rowdy bachelorette at a strip club, but she's also not sure she would have been eager to sit through whatever Kurt has planned for Rachel. She suspects there might be some attempt at party games, which is just—<em>no</em>! She's mostly just looking forward to hanging out with her friends in celebration of her impending marriage, since she knows there'll be too many emotions and too many things happening on her wedding day to really spend a significant amount of time with anyone other than Rachel, and there's no way she's letting anyone cut into her honeymoon time.</p>
<p>Has she mentioned that she's a little horny?</p>
<p>There's enough of a gap in start times between Rachel's shower and Quinn's bachelorette that Mercedes (and Tina) might be able to make it to both of them, but to start, it's just Santana, Josie and Sarah, Megan, Aileen, and Quinn's friend Corinne from HarperCollins. Puck was supposed to be here too, for better or worse, but he'd gotten tied up by a last minute client emergency at his landscaping company and had needed to postpone his flight until Tuesday night. And Brittany—well, much like the wedding, her presence for the party is a giant question mark. She's notoriously hard to pin down and her RSVPs don't actually respond in a way that anyone pleases.</p>
<p>Santana had been wise enough not to invite Judy.</p>
<p>"It seems overkill to rent out the whole club just for us," Quinn comments, gazing around the interior of Club Elysium.</p>
<p>She's not entirely sure what she'd been expecting, probably the low lights and excessive neon of the other strip clubs that she'd visited years ago, but Elysium almost seems classy by comparison. The lights are still low, of course, but there's a softness to them in place of the garish neon, and the décor is dominated by sleek, comfortable furniture in accents of black and silver. A single stage, currently empty, sits in the center of the room with two smaller platforms to the sides that feature silver poles and, yes, two very scantily clad dancers (one man and one woman) performing some fairly impressive maneuvers. There's a very attractive woman in a surprisingly respectable, if still very low cut, tank top manning the bar in the corner, and an equally attractive waitress in similar attire who'd gotten them settled at a large table before taking their drink and appetizer orders. Music fills the room, but it's not overpowering, so Quinn is easily able to hear Santana when she responds.</p>
<p>"Not the whole club. Only the second floor."</p>
<p>Santana had led them up a flight of stairs as soon as they'd entered the building, and apparently the main club sits downstairs, probably through the second set of doors that Quinn had noticed before coming up. "Still seems excessive," she repeats distractedly as she looks around the room, wondering if the main club has the same atmosphere. A closer inspection of the room reveals a black curtain along the far wall, suggesting there might be yet another room beyond this one.</p>
<p>"I thought you'd appreciate a little privacy." Santana gestures across the table. "I mean, Michigan over there's probably never even seen anybody strip outside of her bedroom. Wouldn't want to overstimulate her."</p>
<p>Quinn gives Sarah an apologetic look. She knows her ex gets more than a little self-conscious in places like this, and she probably wouldn't be here at all if not for Josie. Sarah's lips pull into a frown, and she crosses her arms. "Why did I even agree to come?" she mutters, even as Josie wraps a comforting arm around her.</p>
<p>"See?" Santana prods, still gesturing in their general direction.</p>
<p>"Ignore her, hun," Josie urges Sarah before aiming her sternest lawyer expression at Santana. "And you, stop being so...<em>you</em>."</p>
<p>It doesn't deter Santana in the least. "Please, I'm awesome. I got us a private room full of beautiful women willing to take their clothes off for us and even ordered up some man candy for you ladies that like the big dee."</p>
<p>"Which is much appreciated," Megan chimes in, eyeing the male dancer currently doing obscene things to that pole with shameless appreciation. Aileen nods along, her eyes also lingering in that general direction. Surprisingly, Corinne seems equally fascinated with both of the pole dancers.</p>
<p>"You're welcome," Santana crows with smug satisfaction. "And you shouldn't be complaining, Red. You get to enjoy <em>all</em> the sights, and then you get to go home with your woman and enjoy a private show, if you know what I mean."</p>
<p>Sarah's face turns bright red while Josie shakes her head. "I think everyone knows what you mean," she chastises amiably before leaning over to whisper reassurances to her girlfriend.</p>
<p>"Speaking of private shows," Santana segues with a wicked grin, nudging Quinn's arm with her elbow, "I've got a little surprise for you later."</p>
<p>Quinn's response is an immediate and firm, "No."</p>
<p>Santana's expression turns sour. "You don't even know what it is."</p>
<p>"Whatever it is, the answer is <em>no</em>." The apprehension in her stomach is enough to tell her that anything Santana has planned with the words <em>private show</em> attached to them is something that Quinn wants no part of. "I'm just here for the drinks, the company, and," their waitress chooses that moment to lean over Quinn's shoulder and place her drink on the table, giving her a face full of cleavage, "the music," she finishes lamely.</p>
<p>Santana snorts. "Yeah. Whatever you say, Q."</p>
<p>It's not long after all the drinks have been served that the first featured dancer takes the stage. She's an attractive blonde in a nurse's uniform, which Quinn highly suspects had been a request from Santana for her own benefit, and she really is a very skilled dancer, both with and without her clothes on. Quinn's friends all seem to be enjoying themselves, from the drinks to the food to the entertainment, and Quinn thinks maybe having her party here really wasn't a bad idea after all.</p>
<p>But then Santana stands and grabs her hand with a, "Come on, Q. Time to go to the little girls' room." Quinn doesn't really need to do that yet, and she says as much, frowning up at Santana, who huffs and waves her phone in Quinn's face. "Britts sent you a video message and it's too noisy in here to show you."</p>
<p>Quinn had noticed Santana checking her phone once or twice, and it makes sense that Brittany might have finally sent some kind of message beyond the smiley faces on the RSVP for the wedding, so she nods and excuses herself from the table to follow Santana through that black curtain that she'd noticed earlier. The moment she steps through, however, Quinn knows that she shouldn't have.</p>
<p>She's standing in a hallway lined with black doors, and not one of them says restroom. "Santana, no. I told you I don't want a private dance." She spins around to head back to the table, but Santana grabs her wrist and physically hauls her into the closest room. Quinn is woefully out of practice at kicking Santana's ass, so she stumbles into the room before she can put up much of a fight.</p>
<p>"Tough shit," Santana barks, closing the door behind them and leaning back against it to block Quinn from leaving. "I already paid for this."</p>
<p>"Then you do it," Quinn demands, attempting to push Santana out of her way. "I'll just go back out there and watch the dancers from a respectable distance."</p>
<p>Santana bats her hands away. "Trust me, Q, you'd rather be in here."</p>
<p>Growling, Quinn throws up her hands in frustration. "But see, I <em>don't</em> trust you. Why should I when you're trying to make me break my promise to Rachel?"</p>
<p>Santana rolls her eyes. "You promised her you wouldn't touch any strippers, and you won't be." A sly smile appears on her lips. "I guarantee it."</p>
<p>"But…"</p>
<p>"Ah ah ah," Santana shushes, pressing her fingertips into Quinn's shoulders and pushing her further into the room. "No buts except the very fine one that's about to be shaking in front of your face. Just think of it as an extremely zoomed in viewing experience."</p>
<p>Irritation burns through Quinn's blood at Santana's cavalier attitude. "I'm more concerned with what Rachel will think of it." She'd made a promise that she has every intention of keeping, and the fact that Santana isn't respecting that is starting to piss her off.</p>
<p>"That won't be a problem," Santana dismisses, that fucking evil smirk of hers still firmly in place.</p>
<p>"Do you even remember who I'm marrying?" Quinn screeches, making another lunge for the door that Santana laughingly blocks.</p>
<p>"Oh, I definitely do," she manages between her wicked laughter and successful defense against Quinn's escape attempts. Really, when the fuck did she get so strong? Quinn used to be able to top her with ease, figuratively speaking, of course.</p>
<p>"<em>I'm so into you, I can barely breathe."</em></p>
<p>The sudden presence of a third voice in the room puts an instant stop to Quinn's struggles, especially when it's one that's so impossibly familiar. A stupefied "What?" is all she can manage as she spins around to stare in the direction of that voice, still hidden behind the thick, black curtain on the opposite side of the room where a wall should be.</p>
<p>"<em>And all I wanna do is to fall in deep."</em></p>
<p>The curtain slides open and—</p>
<p>"Enjoy the show, Q," Santana murmurs as she slips out of the room, practically unnoticed, because the only thing Quinn is aware of is—</p>
<p>"Rachel?"</p>
<p>There in front of her, in sheer black stockings, fuck-me heels, and a sinfully short skirt that eclipses any in her high school wardrobe, is Rachel Berry, wearing a wolfish smirk that could rival one of Santana's and not very much else. Her hips sway seductively as she steps into the room, flinging the curtain closed behind her with a practiced flick of her wrist.</p>
<p>"<em>But close ain't close enough 'til we cross the line,"</em> she sings acapella, stepping into Quinn's personal space until their breasts are pressed together. Quinn's eyelids flutter, but she can't close her eyes. They have to stay open because she still doesn't quite believe what she's seeing.</p>
<p>Rachel is definitely not wearing the clothes she'd had on when she'd left their apartment. The skirt is skin tight and barely covers what it needs to cover to technically keep her decent, and her white shirt is as good as see through, the tails tied beneath her breasts to show off her abs and one straining button barely keeping the material together over her lacy, black bra.</p>
<p>"<em>So name a game to play, and I'll roll the dice."</em></p>
<p>The smirk turns almost feral as Rachel lifts her left hand in the air, revealing a remote control that she swiftly uses to fill the room with a thrumming beat and baseline. The remote gets tossed over her shoulder in a ridiculously sexy move, and then her hands are on Quinn's shoulders, guiding her to the black, vinyl chair in the center of the room. "Oh, my God," Quinn murmurs, falling into the chair.</p>
<p>"<em>Oh, baby, look what you started. The temperature's rising in here.<br/>Is this gonna happen? Been waiting and waiting for you to make a move."</em></p>
<p>Rachel braces her hands against the low-set arms of the chair and leans forward, arching her back and rolling her body in a way that puts her breasts on tantalizing display.</p>
<p>"<em>Before I make a move."</em></p>
<p>Quinn whimpers, too stunned to do much else. Rachel quickly releases her hold on the chair and spins around, shaking her very fine butt in front of Quinn's face, just like Santana had promised.</p>
<p>"<em>So baby, come light me up, and maybe I'll let you on it."</em></p>
<p>Rachel lowers herself onto Quinn's lap with a sensual body roll, eliciting another whimper that Quinn can't contain as her hands automatically attach themselves to Rachel's hips.</p>
<p>"<em>A little bit dangerous, but baby, that's how I want it."</em></p>
<p>Rachel reaches for the hands at her hips and moves them up to her breasts.</p>
<p>"<em>A little less conversation and a little more touch my body."</em></p>
<p>Quinn groans when Rachel leans back into her, rotating her hips in a slow circle.</p>
<p>"<em>'Cause I'm so into you, into you, into you."</em></p>
<p>A wave of heat crashes over Quinn, making her a little light-headed. She's never had a lap dance go from zero to fuck-me in less than ten seconds, but as quickly as the thought comes, Rachel is disappearing from her lap, leaving her hands empty and her body bereft.</p>
<p>"<em>Got everyone watchin' us, so baby, let's keep it secret."</em></p>
<p>Rachel continues to dance as she sings, hips swaying back and forth while her hands glide over her belly and breasts.</p>
<p>"<em>A little bit scandalous, but baby, don't let them see it."</em></p>
<p>Rachel is back in Quinn's space in the blink of an eye, propping her foot on the chair between Quinn's legs and leaning forward.</p>
<p>"<em>A little less conversation and a little more touch my body."</em></p>
<p>The tips of her fingers run along the length of her stocking-clad leg, a wicked smile playing on her lips, and Quinn just knows that this whole thing is payback for all of the teasing but not pleasing that she's been doing to Rachel in the last fourteen days.</p>
<p>"<em>'Cause I'm so into you, into you, into you."</em></p>
<p>Quinn isn't complaining. She only just barely manages to trace her own fingers over Rachel's thigh before her fiancée is once again dancing out of her reach, circling around the chair to stand behind her. She bends forward, sliding her hands down over Quinn's shoulders, and the words that she's singing so close to Quinn's ear just kind of lose meaning in her mind. She can only seem to focus on the warmth of Rachel's breath and the hands running over her breasts and belly before slowly being dragged back up and away.</p>
<p>Rachel glides in front of Quinn again, tugging at the tie of her shirt until it comes undone, and Quinn digs her fingers into the arms of the chair as she watches that shirt slip down Rachel's arms and flutter to the floor. Apparently, this lap dance is actually a striptease, as if Quinn needs any more stimulation right now!</p>
<p>There's a knowing look on Rachel's face, and she lets her hands roam across her body again, hips gyrating in time with the music. Quinn bites back another moan as she watches her fiancée perform for her, but when Rachel twists her hips and sinks down into an open-legged squat—one that renders that indecent skirt of hers completely redundant—the moan on Quinn's lips refuses to be silenced.</p>
<p>With a sultry expression, Rachel closes her legs before bracing her hands on Quinn's knees and pushing up with another sexy body roll. Quinn bites into her lower lip as she watches Rachel push off and take a step back while the music transitions into the bridge of the song.</p>
<p>"<em>Tell me what you came here for."</em></p>
<p>She strikes a sexy pose with her left hand splayed low on her abdomen while her right hand crosses her body, sliding over her breasts and heading steadily downward.</p>
<p>"<em>'Cause I can't, I can't wait no more."</em></p>
<p>She grips the side of her skirt and rips it away with a single, impressive movement that makes Quinn gasp. She vaguely wonders if Rachel had taken lessons from the dancers out on the main stage, and she definitely wants to know where in the hell she'd gotten her hands on a tear-away skirt. But Quinn will think about that more later, because the skirt is gone, and Rachel is wearing a tiny black thong, and all of Quinn's higher thought processes just disappear.</p>
<p>"<em>I'm on the edge with no control."</em></p>
<p>Rachel sinks down into another squat with her hands on her own knees, opening her legs to taunt Quinn with a tantalizing glimpse of the forbidden, and Quinn inhales sharply through her nose. They've danced like this for each other more than a few times in the past, but knowing that this one can't lead anywhere thanks to Quinn's own self-imposed abstinence is the sweetest kind of torture.</p>
<p>"<em>And I need, I need you to know...you to know. Oh."</em></p>
<p>This time, Rachel rises without any assistance from Quinn before she gracefully spins around with an exaggerated roll of her hips.</p>
<p>"<em>So baby, come light me up, and maybe I'll let you on it."</em></p>
<p>She slaps a palm to her own ass cheek, glancing back over her shoulder with a smirk.<br/><em><br/>"A little bit dangerous, but baby, that's how I want it."</em></p>
<p>She bends over, straight-legged and ass in the air, before trailing her fingertips from her ankles up to her thighs as she rises.</p>
<p>"<em>A little less conversation and a little more touch my body."</em></p>
<p>When Rachel turns around, she's wearing her sultriest expression, looking like she stepped right out of Quinn's dirtiest fantasies with her hair a wild, tousled mess of waves and a fine sheen of sweat glistening on her skin.</p>
<p>"<em>'Cause I'm so into you, into you, into you."</em></p>
<p>Every word brings Rachel closer until she's straddling Quinn's lap. Quinn groans, finally able to touch her fiancée in the way she's been itching to since this whole striptease started.</p>
<p>"<em>Got everyone watchin' us, so baby, let's keep it secret.<br/>A little bit scandalous, but baby, don't let them see it."</em></p>
<p>With Rachel in her lap, rolling her hips and tossing her hair, Quinn really can't be expected to fully appreciate every nuance of her vocal performance, though it is—<em>yeah</em>, it's very nice too.</p>
<p>"<em>A little less conversation and a little more touch my body."</em></p>
<p>A request that Quinn is currently fulfilling. She has a nice handful of Rachel's perfect, fucking tits, in fact, which does not in any way break her pre-wedding vow of abstinence since Rachel is holding them there and Quinn is still fully clothed and completely aroused with no satisfaction in sight, thank you very much.</p>
<p>"<em>'Cause I'm so into you, into you,"</em> Rachel croons, voice softening as the track ends right in time with her final, <em>"into you."</em></p>
<p>With a groan, Quinn collapses forward, burying her face against Rachel's naked shoulder and letting her hands fall innocently to the chair the moment Rachel releases them. She takes a deep breath, which isn't exactly helpful when all she can smell is Rachel's perfume mixed with her own natural, intoxicating scent. "You...do not play fair."</p>
<p>She can feel Rachel's laughter as well as hear it. "It's all about the teasing," she husks, combing her fingers through Quinn's hair.</p>
<p>Quinn lifts her head to see the mirth dancing in those beloved brown eyes. "We are <em>so</em> doing this again when I can actually touch you the way I want." Preferably at some point on their honeymoon. Maybe multiple points. She'll have to make sure Rachel packs that skirt.</p>
<p>Rachel leans closer—and they're already pretty fucking close—and brushes her nose alongside Quinn's, her voice not much more than a sexy whisper. "You can touch me any way you want, baby, <em>anytime </em>you want."</p>
<p>Quinn closes her eyes, biting back another groan. "Not until after the wedding, Rachel."</p>
<p>"But you're tempted," Rachel notes with a sly grin.</p>
<p>Quinn does groan then—well, it might be more of a growl. "So fucking much."</p>
<p>With a sigh, Rachel slips off of her lap. "Well, if you're not going to break your ridiculous vow of abstinence, I suppose I should get dressed so we can go out there and watch other women get naked."</p>
<p>It takes a moment for Quinn to get her body fully back under control, though she doubts there's much to be done about the uncomfortable wetness of her underwear, but Rachel's words do eventually register.</p>
<p>"We? You're staying?"</p>
<p>"Mmhmm." Rachel nods, picking up her discarded clothes from the floor. "Did you think I was leaving you alone here after this?"</p>
<p>"To be honest, my brain kind of short-circuited the moment I saw you," Quinn admits, standing from her chair. Yeah, she definitely needs to find that little girls' room now so she can freshen up a bit.</p>
<p>Rachel's smile is unabashedly pleased, and she tucks her clothes into one arm before lifting a hand to stroke Quinn's cheek. "As it should be, baby."</p>
<p>"Wait." Quinn catches her hand with a sudden frown, realizing, "Aren't you supposed to be at your bridal shower right now?"</p>
<p>"I am," Rachel confirms with a nod, her smile downright mischievous now. "We all had cocktails at Kurt's studio and now we're here." She rolls her eyes. "I'm sure Jessica is already stuffing twenty dollar bills into the G-strings of every half-naked woman on stage while Kurt and the others are cat calling the men."</p>
<p>Quinn's eyes widen. They're all here? It isn't just Rachel who's crashed her party but all of her bridal shower guests as well. Mercedes and Tina and, "Santana knew you were coming!" That bitch! She'd tricked Quinn into getting a lap dance from her own fiancée!</p>
<p>Rachel laughs delightedly, nodding. "Apparently, she and Kurt suspected that I might," and here, her expression goes a little bit sheepish, "be just a tiny bit jealous that you got the cooler party."</p>
<p>"You <em>do</em> want to see the strippers," Quinn accuses, mostly amused by it.</p>
<p>Rachel slips an arm around her waist. "No, baby. I just didn't want you to see the strippers without me."</p>
<p>Quinn lets out a silent, breathy laugh. "Well, I wasn't really paying any attention to them anyway. Except for that last one," she amends with a smirk, letting her eyes rake over Rachel's body, still clad in nothing but her stockings and sexy lingerie.</p>
<p>Rachel's expression is an endearing mix of shy and proud. "Also as it should be," she murmurs, leaning in to place a soft kiss on Quinn's lips. In those fuck-me heels, she actually manages to do it without needing to tilt her face up. She's exactly as tall as Quinn for a change, even though Quinn is wearing heels of her own. Really, Rachel's whole outfit should probably come with them on their honeymoon.</p>
<p>Quinn jerks back from the kiss with a frown. "There's no way you're going out there in those clothes." She gestures to the wrinkled up fabric tucked under Rachel's arm. She'll be damned if anyone else is going to see Rachel dressed like a stripper.</p>
<p>Rachel laughs again, shaking her head. "Don't worry. I have a more suitable outfit in a bag back there." She nods in the direction of the curtain she'd entered through. "You let me leave the apartment in it earlier, so I think it'll do."</p>
<p>The jade blouse and much more modest black skirt are definitely more appropriate for polite company, even at a strip club. Quinn smiles in relief, nodding. "It'll do just fine." Her gaze trails down Rachel's body again, and she licks her lips. Just knowing what will be under that outfit will be pure torture, and she'll be torturing herself for two more days before she can pay back Rachel in the most exquisite way. "You can keep the heels on though."</p>
<p>Laughing, Rachel does exactly that.</p>
<p>They eventually rejoin the party together, surrounded by their friends and a stage full of exotic dancers, but Rachel is the sexiest thing that Quinn sees all night.</p>
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